


The Return

by runawaygypsy



Category: Agents of SHIELD - Fandom, Marvel, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1407391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean Winchester stumble into an investigation by S.H.I.E.L.D. into an unexpected return to Earth by Loki and are recruited to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Independent Contractors

**Author's Note:**

> I have this marked as general for now, but there may be some graphic scenes in later chapters.

Independent Contractors

The newspaper was open on the table and Dean Winchester was beginning the day with a bit of the hair of the dog, a cold beer half gone was in one hand and a plate of syrupy waffles and bacon rested next to the other. “Hey, Sammy,” he said, “You better check this out.”

“What?” yelled a voice from the bathroom, “I'm in the shower, Dean!”

Dean rolled his eyes and stood up, taking the paper with him to the closed door. “Can you hear me?”

The door opened and Sam emerged, a wet mop of brown hair half covering his face and a towel wrapped around his waist. “I'm done,” he said, exasperated, “What?” He walked over to a duffel bag that sat on the table and pulled some clothes out.

“There's something strange happening,” Dean answered, pointing to the headline on the front page. “They've found some weird markings on the ground in a field just east of Seattle. It looks like runes of some sort to me.” There was a photo, grainy, but with just enough detail to make out some sort of cryptic symbols.

“So, you're thinking we should check it out?” Sam pulled on his pants and moved to dry his hair with his discarded towel.

“Couldn't hurt. According to the article, there's been an awful lot of weird happening, too.” He sat back down at the table and shoveled a fork full of waffle into his mouth.

“Maybe we should check in Bobby's books and see if we can find anything that matches. I really have no idea what would leave something like this.” He finished dressing himself and took a seat next to Dean at the table. “Got any of that for me?” he asked, pointing to Dean's breakfast.

Dean picked up the plate and sheepishly handed it over to him, shrugging as he did. “There's coffee,” he mumbled, waffles and all.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he answered, handing the plate back, “I'll get something on the road.”

“Suit yourself.” Dean finished off the waffles and the bacon and washed it all down with the remnants of the beer, which had begun to get warm. “Ugh,” he shook his head as he downed it.

The brothers packed up their few belongings, checked out of the motel room and got into Baby, the shiny black Impala. The Impala was their only constant, a safe-haven, a home, a trusty companion. She purred when Dean revved her engine. The radio began to play “Riders on the Storm” by The Doors. Sam moved to change the station, being more of an alternative music fan than a classic rock fan, but Dean smacked his hand away from the knob. “Tsk,” he said, shaking his head, “It's The Doors, man.”

Sam sat back into the passenger's seat and grabbed one of Bobby's journals, hoping to find something similar to the markings that had been in the paper. Not that he didn't enjoy these long rides in the car with Dean, but sometimes Dean could get a little obsessive about the car. Sam opted to keep himself busy, rather than worry about Dean's choice in music.

They drove for hours, stopping only to gas up, get food and relieve themselves at questionable truck stops along the way. The advantage to living the way they did for so long was that they both had iron constitutions; greasy spoon and truck stop fare that would give a normal person Montezuma's Revenge only served to fortify them.

Twenty four hours and with very little sleep between them, the Winchesters arrived in the small town of Zillah, Washington. It was a farming community, home to a lot of migrant farmworkers who worked in the many surrounding orchards. It was in one of these where the runes had appeared. Sam and Dean checked into a Motel 6 just off Interstate 90 and changed into more suitable clothing, suits that made them look more like the FBI agents they were going to portray themselves as. 

The motel desk clerk was more than helpful with directions to the site, which had been the subject of a large amount of community attention and speculation before getting cordoned off by local police. Armed with his directions and faked FBI badges, they drove to the field.

Upon arrival, they were immediately stopped by the local Sheriff. “I'm afraid this field is closed for a pending investgation,” he explained as they walked closer to him.

Dean smiled, Sam smirked, and they both held up their badges. “FBI, Sheriff, Agents Mulder and Scully,” Dean said with authority, “We've been sent in to investigate some sort of anomaly.”

The Sheriff stepped aside. “In that case, you may want to join your colleague in the barn there,” he smiled, motioning to a large, white, aluminum-sided building on the far side of the area.

Sam and Dean looked questioningly at each other, shrugged, and passed by. “Dean, who else would come here?” Sam whispered.

“Oh, I don't know,” Dean answered, “Maybe one of Bobby's old pals that he never told us about.”

“Right,” Sam said wryly and followed behind as Dean slid through the open barn door.

The inside of the barn was not at all what they had expected. There was no livestock, no farming equipment. Instead, there was a large conference table with computer equipment spread out on it, and miscellaneous mechanical devices beeping and whirring. “I wonder what all this stuff is for?” Sam said aloud.

“We're monitoring the atmosphere,” a voice said from behind him. “Who are you, gentlemen?”

The brothers spun around and came face to face with a man in a smart black suit and sunglasses. He was slightly shorter, with short brown hair and a commanding demeanor. “FBI, Agents Mulder and Scully,” Dean answered as they flipped open their credentials once again.

The man took a look at the badges. “Nice forgeries, well done,” he said, “And such a nice try, but you and I both know you are not FBI.”

Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs, and hissed, “I told you someone would recognize them if we used those names, but, no, you thought it was funny.”

Overhearing Sam's remark, the man laughed and took off his sunglasses. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Phil Coulson, I work for S.H.I.E.LD.” He held his hand out for Dean to shake. “And you are?”

Dean took Agent Coulson's hand and shook it heartily, “Dean Winchester,” he introduced, “And this is my brother Sam. We're hunters.” He withdrew his hand.

Agent Coulson nodded as he shook Sam's hand. “Winchester,” he mused, “That name is not unknown to me. Are you related to John Winchester?”

“He was our father,” answered Dean.

“Was as in not anymore?” Coulson scowled, “Is he dead?”

Sam nodded. “He was killed by a demon.”

“I see,” said Coulson, “I'm sorry to hear that. I worked with him years ago, before you boys were born. He was a good man.” Sam flinched at the observation.

“Agent, can you tell us what is going on here? What exactly is S.H.I.E.LD?” asked Dean.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. Stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” explained Coulson. “Basically, we deal with the things that the government doesn't want the general public to know about.”

“Like a real-life X-Files?”

“Something like that.” Coulson turned around a laptop on the table and pointed to the screen. “Do you remember what happened in New York?”

“You mean the whole superhero schtick?” Dean crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow, a look of doubt clouding his face.

Coulson nodded, “Yes, but do you really know what happened? It was more than 'superhero schtick'. I'm talking aliens and world domination.”

Dean drew his shoulders back and let out a sigh of disbelief. “But there's no such thing as aliens.”

“Says the man who hunts monsters for a living,” Sam said under his breath, then, in a tone meant more for convincing, “C'mon, Dean, there's nothing that says there aren't aliens. Hell, how do we know that the monsters we hunt aren't aliens?”

Coulson grabbed a file folder from the table in front of him and flipped it open to an 8x10 glossy photograph of a man in a horned helmet holding a staff standing on the helipad of a building in New York. “This, gentlemen, is Loki,” Coulson began to explain, seeming slightly pained at the reference, “He is the brother of Thor, son of Odin of Asgard.”

Dean smirked. “You mean the Norse gods, all that Valhalla and Ragnarok shit is real?”

“Yes. Except they're not gods, they are aliens. Loki was the one responsible for everything that happened in New York, as well as a few other locations around the world. He was bent on dominating the good people of Earth. We believed that he was sent back to Asgard with his brother to be brought to justice, but, recently, there have been reports he has been seen here again.”

Sam stepped closer and scanned the photograph. “How does what's happening here have anything to do with this Loki character?” he asked.

Flipping to a different page in the folder, Coulson explained, “The markings that were found in the field here closely match those that were found in New Mexico, which is when we learned about our extraterrestrial friends. It is an indication that the Bifrost was used to travel here.” 

Sam and Dan both looked confused, so he continued, “The Bifrost is like a transport beam.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Sam with sudden recognition, “Like Star Trek. Beam me up, Scotty?”

Dean sniggered, “You always were the bigger nerd.” 

Sam elbowed him in the ribs as Coulson answered, “Yes. We know that it was not Thor or any of his warriors that came down, and there have been sightings reported that resemble Loki.

“ We are not sure what to make of it at this moment in time, whether he is here to try something like that again...” Coulson's voice trailed off.

“Can we help?” Sam offered. He heard Dean scoff behind him and mumble something about “Freaking aliens.”

Coulson smiled. “Actually, you can,” he answered, “How would you like to be employed as independent contractors of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

The brothers looked at one another, eyes drawn in skepticism, then back at Coulson, “How so?” they asked in tandem, then returned a look of mock anger at each other.

“We have sophistcated ways of tracking Loki,” Coulson said, “But they don't always work. Hell, the fact that he was able to return to Earth under our radar is enough to think that he has ways to get around anything we can think of. Asgardian tech is so much more advanced than ours.

“I need you to help me track him, find out what's going on with him, and help us apprehend him. We can pay you.”

Dean flashed him a doubtful smile, grabbed Sam's arm and swung him around so he was facing the door. “Family meeting,” he said quietly.

Sam stood with his arms akimbo. “I think we should do it,” he said.

“This is straight out of Cuckoo-ville,” Dean grumbled, “Since when has the federal government ever given a rat's ass about hunters?” He held up an accusing finger. “You know what I think? I think they want us as bait. We were the first disposable humans they could use. Nobody would miss us.”

“Dean,” Sam pleaded, “That's not true. We have plenty who would miss us. We have Cas, wherever he is, Kevin, Charlie. Besides, it's a paying gig. When's the last time we actually got paid?”  
Dean shook his head. “You're right,” he sighed, “I guess we do have a certain amount of insight on stuff like this, being hunters and all. Boy, do I hope you're right.”

They turned back towards Coulson who was thumbing through more papers in the file. “We'll take it,” said Sam as he reached a hand out.

Coulson shook his hand, then Dean's. “Welcome to the party, boys,” he smiled.


	2. Back from Asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki comes back after supposedly being taken back to Asgard and ends up in Seattle.

A flash hit the ground instantaneously, the ground scalded with runic inscription. From the rays and smoke of the Bifrost, Loki emerged, unchained and unscathed. He chuckled to himself as he thought about the ruse that had fooled everyone yet again. He really was more clever than Thor, outwitting him at every turn. Thor had believed that he had taken the real Loki back to Asgard with the Tesseract, and Loki wished he had been there to see the reaction when he found that it was not Loki he had chained and gagged, but a minion, one of the few that had survived the siege of New York. The minion had been a man of no consequence, someone slipped in under the radar only to be Loki's doppelganger in a time of need. And oh, had he been needed.

Loki took a survey of his surroundings. He had landed himself in a large field that was adjacent to an orchard. It was early morning when he arrived, the twilight barely leaving the sky, the sun's bright tendrils just peeking over the horizon enough for him to see his way out. He glamoured away his Asgardian attire, which was sure to draw too much attention, and replaced it with clothing that seemed to be quintessentially Midgardian: jeans, sneakers, a white tee shirt and a black hoodie. The air was crisp, though not cold to his Jotun blood, but he felt that, since the Midgardian's were such delicate creatures, they would most likely be wearing such an article to keep themselves warm that he should as well, so as not to bring attention to his presence.

He saw an old truck parked in the orchard next to an apple tree and walked over to it. The owner had left the keys in the ignition and the door was unlocked, so Loki slid into the seat, turned the key and the truck roared to life. He glanced around, making sure that no one had noticed the noise from the engine and when he was sure that he was still alone, eased it onto the dirt road that ran from the orchard to the main road. Midgardian machinery was simple to maneuver compared to what he was used to and in no time, Loki was racing down the highway towards the city lights that shone in the distance.

As he drove, he thought about his plans this time. He had no army to back him up, so there was no plan to rule this place, but, in his time on Midgard, he had become quite fond of it. The people were amusing, their quaint rituals and customs, and their technology so superceded by its Asgardian counterparts that Loki would have no trouble proving himself superior. His plan was to blend in. He was a chameleon of sorts, after all, and able to adapt to any situation that he felt might arise. If anything, this little planet would be a respite from the prison he most certainly would have found himself in on Asgard, a retreat from his brother's constant shows of power, and Odin's abhorrence of him. He only missed Frigga, his mother, his teacher, for she was the only one in all of Asgard that championed him.

Sunrise turned into daylight and as the sun rose full into the sky, Loki approached the largest city he had found on this new journey thus far. The buildings rose like towers, not as high as those in New York, but more colorful, windows of green glass and filigree, black obsidian obelisks, and even one with a saucer attached to it cut into the horizon. There was a large body of water on the other side of it and as the waves picked up the bits of sunlight as they spilled from over the mountains that were behind him, they glistened. This city reminded him very much of Asgard and he almost felt homesick. 

Unsure exactly what to do now that he was in the city, Loki parked the truck along an alley and made his way on foot towards the city center. There was a lot of traffic along the thoroughfares, people rushing along on their ways to work, and shopkeepers were opening their stores and readying their wares for sale. Loki loved the marketplace and the prospect of seeing some of the things that the Midgardians treasured fascinated him. He walked along a Farmer's market, along food and flower stalls, people hawking handmade jewelry and various sundries. Men and women alike smiled at him, asked him to try samples, offered to give him deals on the items he admired. These people were compelling and he could appreciate now why Thor was so bent on protecting them.

Loki approached a small cafe on the outskirts of the market and sat down on a small wrought-iron chair. There was a newspaper sitting on the table, long ago abandoned by the hand that bought it and he caught a glimpse of the front page. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the photograph of the field in which he had arrived, saw the familiar seal from the Bifrost and the face of a man he was certain had been dead. Agent Coulson stood on the side of the seal, intently studying it in the photograph, but Loki distinctly remembered having impaled him through the heart even before New York. It had been a heartless move, to be sure, but Loki had been under a power even greater than himself. The power had lost its influence once the Tesseract had been safely taken away to Asgard. He was no longer that man.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sweet voice. “Sir, would you like anything?” she said.

Swiveling his head in the direction of the voice, Loki smiled. “I would like some food,” he answered, admiring her. She had long auburn hair that curled in ringlets at the end, pale skin, rosy cheeks pierced with dimples, a bow of full red lips, and large dark eyes. She smiled back at him, revealing a row of perfect, pearly white teeth.

“Would you like to see a menu?”

He shook his head. “What would you recommend?”

Brushing an errant curl behind her ear, she leaned in closer to him. “My personal favorite is the bagel with lox and cream cheese with a hot cup of Earl Grey tea.”

As she leaned over, Loki could see the outline of her perfect breasts as they strained against her shirt. Something inside him stirred, but he wasn't sure of it was hunger for her, or just hunger in general. “That sounds delicious,” he said, “Please bring me that.”

As she stood back upright, she smiled even bigger. “Coming right up! By the way, my name is Angel, if you need anything.” She disappeared into the cafe, leaving him amongst the growing crowd.

He flipped through the newspaper as he waited, scanning for any more information on his return. There was nothing more. Satisfied, he returned his attention to his surroundings. He had gathered from listening to the cacophony of music and voices that he was in a place the Midgardians referred to as “Seattle.” But he also heard several of them refer to it as “The Emerald City,” which confused him, because, while it was a rather majestic city, it was not emerald in the least that he had seen. 

When Angel returned with his food, he was ravenous, devouring it within minutes and satisfying his thirst with the scalding hot tea. He invited her to sit with him and, seeing as how it was nearly her break time, she obliged.

“So, what's your name?” she asked curiously as she sat down. 

Loki had a moment of stunned silence. His plan had not included coming up with a different name, but he suddenly realized that he couldn't use his real name. Shifting his eyes around the square for something, anything, his gaze landed on a shop sign for a place called David's Bridal. “David,” he answered, turning on the charm so she wouldn't notice his bluff. 

She held out her hand for him to take. “Well, nice to meet you, David.”

He grasped her hand, gently, admiring her delicate fingers, and kissed the back of it softly. “I'm pleased to meet you as well.”

Angel withdrew her hand almost hesitantly. “I've never seen you here,” she observed, “are you new here?”

He nodded his head, “I've only just arrived.”

“Have you got a place to stay?” 

“Not yet.” He glanced around nervously.

She grasped the hand he had rested on the table. “I know this sounds silly, since I just met you, but I have a spare room, if you would like to use it.”

Her touch was comforting and felt familiar. “Are you sure that would be alright?” he asked.

“I feel like we've met before.” Her smile brightened again, and she made no move to remove her hand. “I'm off here at three, why don't you meet me back here then and I'll take you there.”


	3. Agents on a Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters and Agent Coulson trek to Seattle.

“Where has Loki been spotted?” Dean asked Agent Coulson as they stared at the multitude of monitors. He sighed with boredom, glancing around the room, his eyes landing on Sam as he tinkered with his own laptop.

Coulson brought up a grainy video from a Closed Circuit Television on a screen at the end of the room. “Seattle,” he answered. “This is CCTV footage from a cafe in Pike Place Market. He was eating a bagel and drinking coffee.” 

Sam looked up from his laptop and chuckled. “No offense, sir, but that hardly looks like criminal behavior.”

“He's killed hundreds of people and last time he was here, he tried to take over the world,” Coulson began ranting, “He's a threat. Now, this is the only footage we have of him and, frankly, we're not even sure how he got to Seattle in the first place. Before he had a staff that could override the mind, make someone think and do only what he wanted, but we have that staff under tight wraps, so he obviously doesn't have that advantage now. It looks like he is trying to blend in with the crowd, make himself as inconspicuous as possible, so, he's a chameleon of sorts. We need to find him before he does something truly destructive, before he hurts or possibly kills even more people.”

The Winchesters exchanged doubtful glances, then turned their attention back to Agent Coulson. “So, how are we going to get there?” asked Dean.

Agent Coulson motioned for them to follow him through a door to another part of the building. The lights snapped on, motion detecting, as they entered and revealed to them a dozen or more heavily armored tactical vehicles disguised as SUVs, all painted black, and in the middle, a cherry red vintage Corvette. “You guys can borrow one of these,” he said, “I'm taking Lola.”

“Sweet ride, but I only drive Baby,” Dean smiled. He immediately felt a new kinship with Coulson as he admired the upholstery, the flawless paint job, and the nearly flawless integration of intelligence modifications. 

“What's Baby?” 

Dean stood up and smiled even more broadly. He could hear Sam behind him scoff, “Oh, Lord,” as he began to explain, “Baby is my black 1967 Impala. She purrs like a kitten and roars like a lion.” His eyes glistened as he spoke, his stance was that of a proud father, until Sam coughed, trying hard not to laugh.

Coulson seemed to appreciate the sentiment. His demeanor towards Dean began to soften and he smiled. “Alright, you follow me.”

He got inside Lola and revved her engine, winking at Dean as he did it. Then, he gunned her out of the garage door. Sensing the need to hurry, Dean, followed by Sam ran after him and as soon as they reached Baby, quickly jumped inside and put pedal to the metal and were on Coulson's tail.

“So, what do you think of all this?” Dean asked Sam as they sped onto the highway. “Is this for real?”

Sam shrugged, “I think Coulson's been entirely honest with us. We've seen some weird shit, Dean, but I bet he's seen some even stranger shit than we have. He works for the government.”

“Yeah, I guess so. What I don't get is, if this Loki dude has already had his ass beaten here before, why would he allow himself to be captured on video?” He cocked his eyebrow and kept his eyes to the road.

Sam sighed, “Well, maybe he has a plan and this is part of it?”

Dean shrugged and looked like he was about to say something, but “Don't Fear the Reaper” began playing faintly on the radio, so, instead, he reached down, turned the volume up and began singing along with it, hitting the steering wheel with his index fingers along with the drum beats. Resigned, Sam leaned his head back against the seat and watched the scenery speed by him.

They drove for a few hours, mostly in silence, until the city appeared on the horizon. It was evening and the last light of sunset was still on the horizon, silhouetting the buildings in a swath of purples and oranges. They had been able to stay on Coulson's tail the entire drive and as they came upon the breathtaking view, even he seemed to slow down a slightly to take in the view. 

Sam's phone rang, startling him. “Hello?” he answered apprehensively.

“Sam, it's Agent Coulson, we're going to stop at the waterfront Hilton for the night.”

Sighing, Sam answered, “The Hilton? Isn't that a little conspicuous?” He has nearly forgotten that he had given Coulson his number.

Coulson laughed, “That's the best place for us. They've had sufficient notice that we are coming, everything has been locked down and cleared out. I don't think Loki knows that the Hilton is a fancy hotel.”

Dean overheard the conversation and grabbed the phone from Sam's hand. “All the same, Agent Coulson, I think we'd be more comfortable in somewhere that is a little bit more below the radar.” Sam glared at him.

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Coulson answered, “That's not an option. Besides that, I've already got a team in place at the Hilton. They flew in this afternoon. They will be ready to give us a briefing as soon as we arrive.”

“So, if we resist are you going to do that flashy thing and remove our memories of this ever happening?”

“That's the Men in Black, Dean,” Coulson said flatly, “They're a different division.”


	4. A Midgardian Adventure Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki explores the city and begins finding his way.

Loki spent the remainder of the day exploring the city. He perused the rest of the market, finding humor in the fact that his likeness was a cardboard cutout in front of the comic store, though no one recognized him as he thumbed through the graphic novels. His favorite vendor was the spiritualist shop. The moment he stepped through the door, his nostrils were filled with a heady blend of incense and herbs, gossamer smoke swirling around his head. It was filled with trinkets, likenesses of what the Midgardians considered gods, amulets, candles, books, even a fortune teller. “Even on Midgard do they feel the need to know the future,” he thought and chuckled to himself. He also made his way down a large stone staircase and found himself at the waterfront, amused that there were shops here as well, housed in buildings on stilts in order to keep themselves out of the water. Here, there were vendors hawking many wares, from simple baubles to a whole store dedicated to men called pirates. It was here he discovered an amazing tribute to the oddities of the Midgardian culture, Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe. Mostly selling items that were labeled “Seattle,” it also boasted a collection of everything from unusual teeth, to deformed fetal animals and even two mummies. This was where he realized everything he needed to know about Midgardians: anything different was something to be preserved, to be gawked at. He made a mental note to make sure he appeared as Midgardian as possible. He didn't want to be put on display, which would surely happen had anyone realized who was in their presence. 

There had been a wallet with Midgardian currency in the truck he had taken and he was happy to have it now as he began to hunger. He followed his nose to a place where the food smelled divine. It was a walk-up, a restaurant serving something called fish and chips. He waited in line as the others that were there until he finally was able to step up to the cashier. Not knowing what the best item on the menu was, he settled for what looked like the most filling, a 5 piece meal with a drink. When the cashier asked him what drink he wanted, he looked at him curiously. “Do you have ale?” asked Loki, familiar only with that beverage from his previous visit to Midgard. 

“I'm sorry, sir,” the kid behind the counter squeaked. “We only have Coke, Diet Coke, Iced Tea, Lemonade, Sprite and ice water.”

Loki smiled at him, hoping to put him at ease. “I'll have lemonade,” he answered, hoping that I would be something formidable. 

The cashier smiled, filled the cup full of ice and a yellow liquid, snapped the top on and handed it over.  
“Thank you, sir, your order is number 57. Straws and napkins are around the corner.”

Not exactly sure what he was expected to do, Loki followed the cues from the other diners and grabbed a straw, a handful of paper napkins from the dispenser, and stood hovering near the end of the counter sipping on his lemonade until a different worker called out, “Number 57!” He assumed the order on the tray was his, picked it up and navigated toward a small metal table on the deck outside. Sitting down, he took a chip from the little basket and nibbled on it. It was dry and bland and he spit it on the ground. His discarded chip was enthusiastically devoured by a gray and white bird who was suddenly joined by six of his feathered friends. As Loki began to pick at the breaded fish he had ordered, the birds began to screech at him, their cries echoing against the building and out towards the water. They seemed to be begging for food. Delighted, he began breaking off small pieces of chips and tossing them into the hoard, letting the birds fight over them. In between throws, he devoured his fish, which was decidedly better than its fried potato counterpart. When his meal was gone, Loki stood and picked up his tray, took it to the trash bin and discarded his trash, leaving the tray on top, as he had seen the other diners do. As he turned to leave, he realized that the hoard of birds was following him, hopping slowly after him, waiting for him to feed them more. He stomped at them, hoping he would scare them away, that they would move along and harass another diner, but it was to no avail. The birds kept on his heels as he walked away from them.

As Loki tried again to shoo his new friends away, he heard a voice behind him say, “I see you've made friends with the local wildlife.”

He spun on his heel and came face to face with Angel. Sighing in relief he nodded. “I fed them and they won't leave,” he groaned.

Angel laughed, “Yeah, the seagulls down here are particularly demanding. They're really not much better than rats.”

“I thought I was meeting you after work?” He furrowed his brow at her.

“You were,” she shrugged, “It's lunch time. I guess we had the same idea about what sounded good to eat.”

Loki smiled at her. “It was delicious,” he said. “Did you enjoy yours?”

“Oh yeah. Ivar's is one of my favorites.” Angel grabbed his hand and began to pull him down the sidewalk. “Come on, I'll show you where I live. It's not too far from here and, from the looks of you, you could really use some rest.”

Her touch to him was electrifying, as though she had simply absorbed all the energy from the atmosphere and channeled it into her skin. He followed her mutely, pondering what he was feeling, wondering if this is what his fool brother had felt with his Midgardian woman, Jane. There had been women on Asgard that had caught his attention, but none had been like this. He pondered saying something, asking if she felt the same, and thought better of it. She was the only one he knew, the only one who had befriended him thus far and he didn't want to ruin it. At the moment, she was his only ally.

They walked the length of the waterfront and then hiked up a hill, turning right down another street until stopping in front of a red brick building. The steps on the front were stone, the trim painted a neat white, bright like it had only recently been painted. “Welcome home,” Angel said, opening the double doors in an exaggeratedly grand way. She led him past a bank of gold painted mailboxes, to the end of a short hallway and up some carpeted stairs to the second floor. Her door was the first one on the left and she slid a small key in the lock, rotated it, turned the handle and swung the door open. “It's not much, a little small,” she excused, “It's really all I could afford. I'll show you around.”

The apartment was a little on the small side, but homey. It was decorated in thrift store chic, with mismatched furniture, a bit worn, a bit dated, but still in good condition. The walls were painted white and decorated with a mirror, some photos clipped to a wire, and a small shelf full of knickknacks. “It looks comfortable,” he commented, still taking in his surroundings. They continued along to the kitchen, which was utilitarian at best, with generic white cupboards, white tile counter tops, and a small bar with wooden bar stools nudged up under it. 

As they rounded the corner, she opened another door. “This is your room.” He stepped in, grimacing at the short twin bed wedged in the corner, wondering if his long frame would fit comfortably on it. The window faced another brick wall, but had some sunlight that refracted back into the room. There was only a small chest of drawers here and the walls were completely blank. “I know it's a bit small, but it's cozy!” She was doing her best to sound chipper, hoping he wouldn't notice. “What do you think?”

He smiled softly at her, watching as she glanced shyly away, flexing her jaw and pursing her lips together. “I'm sure it will be just fine,” he answered. He lifted a finger just under her chin and brought it up, looking into her eyes. “It's great.”

As she stared, she relaxed. “I really feel like I've seen you somewhere before, David,” she whispered before he leaned in and landed a tender kiss on her lips. It came as a total surprise to her and almost as soon as their lips touched, she jumped back. “Oh, that's not good,” she said, shaking her head and rubbing her lips with her index finger. “I can't do this, I don't even know you.”

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, “I just...” He was cut short as she turned from him, opened the door to the adjoining room and escaped inside with a slight slam. Loki shook his head, walked back into his room, closed the door and laid down on the bed, folding his hands under his head. 

He must have fallen asleep, for when he opened his eyes the light had faded outside and the air in the room had cooled. He could hear noises outside his door and got up to investigate. He cracked the door open and peered out towards the kitchen. Angel was in there, her back to him, stirring something on the stove. Walking up behind her, he apologized once again. “I'm sorry about what happened earlier, it won't happen again.”

Angel jumped, startled at his sudden presence. She turned to look at him, her face red and tear-stained. “I know who you are,” she sniffled, her eyes accusing him already. “You're name isn't David, is it?”

He reached out to touch her shoulder and she shied away. “No,” he answered, “it's not.”

“I looked it up online,” she continued. “You were in New York during the invasion. You were with them.” She spat the word “them” out with such disdain that it made him back away. 

His hip bumped against the counter and he stopped. “Yes, I was there,” he resigned himself to telling her the truth. “I was a part of the invasion, but I'm not what you think.” His hands stretched out toward her, pleading with her.

She continued to look at him with disgust. “People died,” she said tearfully, “You killed them.”

His shoulders slumped and he leaned back against the counter, dropping his hands to his sides. “I know,” he sighed, looking ashamedly at the floor. “I wanted to rule, I thought you Midgardians needed a ruler, but I was wrong.” 

“What?” she asked incredulously. “What did you call us?”

Loki instantly realized his mistake. Looking up at her, he said, “Midgardians. It's what my people call your people.”

Angel took a deep breath. “Your people... So you are one of them.”

Shaking his head, he groaned in disappointment. “No, I'm not, you misunderstand me.” 

The pot on the stove began to boil over and made her jump. She reached back and scooted it from the burner, the heat from the pan burning her finger. “Ouch!” she yelped, sticking the finger in her mouth to cool it down.

“Let me help,” Loki said, pulling her hand towards himself. She watched in amazement as the skin on his hands began tinge blue and cool down. Within seconds, her pain was gone, the burn relieved. He gave her finger a delicate kiss and dropped her hand. “Is that better?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Alright, I'm going to give you one opportunity to tell me the truth. If I think you are lying, you won't be able to stay here.” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to speak.

“Perhaps, we should sit down,” he suggested, moving towards the sofa. She nodded and followed him, sitting down at the opposite end and turning to face him, arms still crossed. 

Loki sat down and leaned forward, his forearms rested on his thighs. “Alright,” he sighed, “Here goes. My name is really Loki.” He told her the tale of his upbringing and then how he found out the story of his birth and adoption by Odin and Frigga, his relationship with his brother, Thor, and how he was supposed to rule Asgard. He ended his story with, “I know I was wrong. I was hurt, scared, scarred. I have changed.”

“But you killed innocent people.” Her mouth was turned down at the sides in a frown, but her eyes seemed more sympathetic now.  
“I know. And I'm sorry. I want to make amends. That's why I came back, why I escaped.” The way she was looking at him, he wanted to take her in his arms, but he refrained, afraid that she would reject him.

She took a deep breath and relaxed, letting her arms fall and her hands land in her lap. “How do you think you can make amends?”

“Can I start with you?” He smiled, trying to turn on the charm, hoping she would give him a second chance.

Angel gave him a sympathetic smile. “Alright,” she said, “Do you know how to cook?” He nodded. “Then you can finish dinner.”


	5. Meanwhile, back at the hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Agents assemble and begin the search for Loki

Dean maneuvered Baby into the covered parking of the Waterfront Hilton, following closely behind Coulson in Lola. They parked next to each other and headed for the lobby doors, Dean swaggering in first, followed by Sam striding confidently, while glancing around the garage, making sure they were safe, and finally backed up by Coulson, who was checking a text. They were met at the front desk by a small woman with dark hair and a suspicious look in her eye. She relaxed upon seeing Coulson. “Dean, Sam,” Coulson introduced, “I'd like you to meet Agent Melinda May.” 

Agent May smiled slightly, nodded her head towards them and extended her hand. “I've heard about you, boys,” she said flatly, “I hope there's no trouble.”

Dean took her hand and shook it heartily. “None that we aren't already here to help with,” he smiled, hoping to charm her. It didn't work. 

She pulled her hand away from him suddenly and extended it apprehensively towards Sam, who took a gentler approach. “Ma'am,” he said, “We're here to help.” He let go of her hand, gingerly sticking his hands in his pockets and backing behind Dean and Coulson.

“May, can you update me on the situation?” Coulson asked, trying to dissipate some of the tension in the room. In his eyes, Agent May had every reason to be suspicious of the Winchesters. The tales they had heard in other investigations of the methods the boys had used to dispose of their adversaries, sometimes unscrupulous manners they had injected themselves into investigations, as well as rumors of corrupt dealings with demons and other unmentionables. In Coulson's eyes, their actions in helping the world at large in dealing with such ghastly situations more than redeemed themselves. He followed Agent May into a conference room adjacent to the service desk, turning once to motion for the Winchesters to come in as well.

Inside the room, four other people. Two, a man and a woman, were in the corner concentrating respectively on items in a microscope and on a light table. Coulson pointed to them and said, “Agents Fitz and Simmons.” The two looked up and waved, returning promptly to their work. Another woman sat at a table, staring intently at a laptop screen, occasionally taking notes on a pad of paper on the table beside her computer. Coulson nodded to her, “Skye.” She glanced up at Sam and Dean, smiled, and went back to her laptop. The fourth was a man that sat across from Skye, clad entirely in black body armor, a ruthless expression, disassembling a weapon of some sort while growling lowly about something that none of them could hear. Coulson nodded toward him. “Agent Ward,” he said. The man looked at the Winchesters, taking stock of them, assessing the threat. Dean puffed his chest, a subconscious alpha-male move that seemed to draw the ire of Agent Ward who silently motioned that he would be watching them.

As they took seats at the nearest table, Agent May began debriefing them. “Loki was picked up in the Downtown area on several cameras, but his activities have been less that suspicious. There's nothing to indicate that he is here in the same capacity.”

Coulson looked confused. “What has he been doing?” he asked. 

Agent May gauged her answer, then, smirking, said, “Mostly window shopping, sir.” She tapped Skye on the shoulder, who turned around her laptop to show the recorded CCTV feeds that had captured Loki. He was glancing in shoppe windows, looking fairly amused at some of the street vendors in the Market and, finally, getting harassed by seagulls on the Waterfront. A woman was speaking with him and he left the Waterfront with her. May, seeing the concern in Coulson's eyes, added, “The woman has not been identified yet, but she seemed rather friendly with Loki.”

“Do we have any other sightings after that?” Dean asked Skye. He tried charming her the same way he charmed everyone, megawatt smile, knowing gleam in his eye, which she responded to by smiling shyly back an batting her eyes until Sam swooped in, commandeering her laptop.

“Can I see that?” Sam said, turning the screen towards himself. Dean rolled his eyes.

Skye pulled her laptop back. “Hey!” she yelped, “Secret government property. Paws off.” She lightly smacked his hand and scowled at him.

“I'm sorry,” Sam apologized, “I just thought I could help.”

Skye's look softened. “It's alright,” she said, shaking her head, “I'm just very sensitive about my equipment.”

Dean snorted and laughed, “Sounds like someone else I know.” He was looking at Sam, hoping to get a reaction and got one in the form of a wounded look followed by a shrug. Recomposing himself, he asked Coulson, “So, where do we fit in?”

“Well,” Coulson answered, “You two will be working closely with Agent Ward. He's the muscle of this operation. I know you have connections in the area, other hunters, creatures we know nothing about. I need your help in tracking Loki, finding where he is, finding out what he is planning. He doesn't know you, but he knows me. If we're going to take him, I need to stay out of sight.”

“What about the others?”

“We will be maintaining base operations. May and myself will be communicating directly to Director Fury about our progress and relaying any orders that come down, Skye will continue monitoring for any more sightings of Loki and FitzSimmons are our scientific team. They will analyze anything that needs to be analyzed.”

Sam looked amused. “What might that be, sir?” he asked.

“Anything you men might find in the field that seems other-worldly or strange, I want brought back to this room immediately. I don't want another problem like the Tesseract.” 

Dean stood up and clapped his hands together. “Great, when do we start?”

Standing up next to him, Coulson handed him a card key for a room upstairs. “As soon as we all get some rest,” he answered.

“I don't need any rest,” Sam said, shaking his head.

Dean crossed his arms. “Me, neither,” he said.

Coulson looked around the room, looking at each of the agents. They all shook their heads. “Well, I guess that settles that,” he announced. “Let's get to work.” He pulled a file box from under the table and rifled through the papers, settling on a yellow folder. Inside the folder were photocopied dossiers on everything S.H.I.E.L.D. Knew about Loki, including known associates and photos of him from his previous time on Earth. 

Agent May turned a projector on and aimed it at a blank wall, then turned the lights low. A photo of Loki clothed in a smart suit with a scarf and a staff appeared. “Our target is named Loki,” she began. “He is known as the God of Mischief in Norse mythology, but, in our previous dealings with Loki, as well as his brother, Thor, have found out that they are really a race of aliens from a place called Asgard. This race lives for thousands of years and because of this, our ancestors thought they were Gods when they met them.” She flipped to the next slide with a small remote. “This,” she continued, showing a photo of New York, completely devastated, “Is what happened the last time Loki visited our planet. That time, he had recruited another alien army and was attempting to rule Earth and enslave the human race. Agent Coulson was also stabbed through the heart by him. He was thwarted by the Avengers,” another slide flipped to show the heroes of the day, “Iron Man, The Black Widow, Captain America, Hawkeye, and The Hulk, as well as Thor, who took Loki back to Asgard in chains, or so we thought.”

Dean glanced stealthily to Coulson, who flinched at the mention of the stabbing and held his hand on his chest. “How did you survive?” he asked quietly.

Coulson shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I didn't,” he whispered back. “I was brought back.”

Dean gave him a knowing look and nodded his head. He understood being brought back and began to wonder about what Coulson's experience was like, making a mental note to ask him later. “Been there,” he said, instead.

May continued on with her presentation, her demeanor professional, her delivery, clinical, devoid of any emotion. “We know through the runes that were found at the site where Loki is presumed to have returned that the Bifrost must have been repaired, as these are identical to those found in New Mexico, New York, and London. Since Thor has not yet contacted us, it is assumed that he is not aware of his brother's presence here.” She flipped the switch on the wall, turning the lights on and nearly blinding everyone in the process.

Through squinted eyes, Coulson said, “Thank you for that, Agent May.” He stood up to address the room. “Since you have all unanimously decided that we are not resting until Loki is apprehended once again, I suggest getting into the field as soon as possible, before we lose any more daylight.”

Sam and Dean were the first ones out of their seats, followed by Ward. Dean, still feeling the alpha-male competition faced Ward and said, “I think I should drive.”

“No,” Ward answered, “I think we'd be safer in one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Vehicles, they're armored, have communications systems and are made just for this sort of work.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that right?” Dean began to get in Ward's face, “And how many of those did Loki see during his last visit?”

“I'm the one with the government badge,” Ward argued, “Besides, I would feel safer in one of ours than I would in that bucket of bolts you call a car.”

Dean was steaming. His eyes blazing, he growled, “Nobody puts Baby in a corner.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, cool it,” he interjected, trying to diffuse the situation. “Dude, he's just doing his job. Why don't we let Ward take the S.H.I.E.L.D car, we'll take ours.” He grabbed a hold of Dean's shoulders, pulling him back, away from Ward.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, backing down. “You're right, Sammy.” He held his hand out to Ward in a show of solidarity. “We good?” he asked.

Ward grasped his extended hand and shook it. “Yeah, we're good.”

Dean smiled. “Awesome, let's get going.” 

They headed out to the parking garage and hopped into their respective automobiles, Sam and Dean in their Impala, Ward in a fully-equipped black SUV. Ward drove out first, turning right onto the street, Dean following as they headed towards the Market area.

It was near sunset by the time they fought through the rush-hour traffic that clogged the downtown streets and found parking. Dean began scanning the buildings as he got out of the car. Sam was texting Coulson on his cell phone, and Ward was reading coordinates he had programmed into his cell phone. “I'll start by talking to vendors at the Market,” Dean volunteered. 

“Sounds great,” answered Ward, “I'm going to begin door-to-door questioning with these condos. Sam, would you care to join me?”

Sam looked at Dean, unsure if he should take the offer, only to see that Dean had already turned towards Pike Street and was heading towards his destination. “I guess that's my answer,” he said, turning back towards Ward. “Let's go.”


	6. Making it up as we go along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long to get posted. Life has gotten in the way. Ugh.

Loki rummaged through Angel's cupboards, pulling out the ingredients that she had planned on cooking, a package of spaghetti and a jar of Ragu from Angel's meager supplies. “You sure don't have much to eat around here,” he commented as he wrapped an apron that said “Kiss the Cook” on it around his slender frame. 

“Well,” Angel replied from another room, “It's usually just me. Besides, I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow. There will be more then.”

“Alright,” he grumbled as he retrieved a sauce pan and dumped the contents of the Ragu jar, his face trying to mask the disgust at the sploosh it made. “You really eat this?” he whined. 

Angel appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips. “Yes,” she answered, annoyed, “And it tastes quite good!” She began to approach him, curiosity getting the better of her, and reached out to touch his shoulder.

Loki felt her hand and turned around, his face softened and a slight smile spread across his lips. “Does this mean I'm forgiven?” he asked quietly. 

“Your water's boiling,” Angela observed, smiling and breaking the tension that began forming between them.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Loki jumped to open the package of spaghetti and slide it into the bubbling water, spalshing himself with some of the water. He groaned, holding his shirt out and fanning himself with it. “Guess I was in too much of a hurry,” he shrugged.

She grabbed a towel from the fridge door and moved to help him dry off when there was a knock at the door. Both Angel and Loki froze. “Are you expecting anyone?” Loki whispered, his eyes shifting from Angel to the door and back. 

She shook her head. “You might want to climb out on the fire escape,” she suggested, a hinky feeling running down the back of her neck. As Loki opened the window and climbed out, disappearing up the metallic ladder, Angel made her way to the door. She straightened her clothing, pushed her hair out of her face and turned the handle. “Can I help you?” she asked the man at the door, smiling.

“Hello, Miss,” he said, leaning a well-muscled arm against her door frame, “My name is Agent Ward, I'm looking for this man.” He handed her a snapshot, slightly blurry, obviously taken from a cell phone, of someone who looked a lot like Loki. The agent smiled charmingly at her as she scrutinized the photo. 

She shook her head, “I don't think I've seen him.” She handed the picture back, the agent's smile making her even more uncomfortable.

“You know,” he said, “I have seen some Close Circuit camera footage of a woman who looks an awful lot like you walking with someone who looks a lot like him down on the Waterfront.” He winked, his easy charm oozing from every pore as his dark eyes pierced right through her.

“Well, they say we all have a double,” she shrugged, “You must have found mine.” Angel began to close the door when there was a shout and a clatter outside. Her immediate thought went to Loki and she tried hard to hide the sudden panic she felt. 

The Agent pushed his way through the door, nudging her out of his way and heading toward the open window. Sticking his head out, he called, “Hey, Dean, is that you?”

A voice from above answered, “Yep.”  
“Did you find anything? I thought I heard you yell.”

There was a clatter of footsteps climbing down the metal ladder and then Dean appeared. “There's a guy up here, but not our guy,” Dean announced.

Angel noticed the pot of spaghetti boiling over on the stove and the sauce bubbling everywhere. She pulled them off the burners and exhaled loudly in relief, though it was more because they didn't find Loki. As Agent Ward turned to look at her, she smiled and shrugged, motioning to the now-overcooked pasta. “It didn't burn!” she laughed nervously.

Ward helped Dean climb in through the window and soon they were both standing in her living room. “Hello there,” Dean winked, approaching Angel with an appreciative grin. “Name's Dean. Who might you be?”

“Who did you find on the roof?” Ward interrupted, pulling Dean's elbow as he eyed Angel hungrily. 

Dean's attention flicked over to Ward, his predatory smile morphing more into the lopsided kind of smile a child gets when he knows he's in trouble. “Oh, an old man. He was up there hanging his laundry.” 

In an effort to play along, Angel giggled. “Oh, that's Mr. Ellis,” she lied, “He's in 2B. He doesn't like the laundromat in the basement, says it's haunted, so he washes his things in his bathtub and dries them on the roof.”

At the word “haunted,” she had Dean's attention once again.

“Haunted by what?” he asked, suddenly serious. “I should probably check that out.” He pushed past Ward and headed for the door. “You coming?”

Ward shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I'm sorry for the intrusion,” he apologized to Angel as he followed Dean out of the apartment.

Angel waited until the door was closed and she heard their muffled boot steps clomp down the stairs before peeking her head out of the window. Trying to keep her voice down, she said, “Loki?” When there was no answer, she repeated it, concern tinging her voice. Straining to look up the fire escape,she was startled when Loki suddenly flopped down in front of her, swinging from the fire escape directly above her. “How did they not find you?” she asked. 

Loki wiggled his fingers and a light emitted from them, sparkling. “Just a bit of magic,” he grinned. With a flick of his fingers, he was suddenly a grizzled old man dressed in a blue flannel and overalls, hunched, wrinkled, the only indication he wasn't as he seemed the dancing green eyes that shined up at her.

“I get it,” she sighed, “Now change back.” He snapped his fingers and once again, he stood in front of her, t-shirt, jeans, and apron. 

He wrinkled his nose, “What's that smell?” he said as the fire alarm began to blare.

“Oh shit!” she exclaimed, “The sauce is burnt! I totally forgot about it!” She grabbed the pan handle on the stove and flung it into the sink, drowning it in water and eliciting a large cloud of steam and smoke that made her cough.

As she stood huddled and gasping for breath over the sink, Loki came up from behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “It's ok,” he reassured her softly, “Let's go get something out.”

Angel turned to face him. “Are you sure that's safe?” she asked earnestly. “You're a wanted man and I'm harboring a fugitive.” The reality of the situation weighed down on her suddenly and she bentback against the sink. “Oh, god, what did I get myself into?”

“I can make myself look like whoever you want,” Loki whispered, leaning close to her ear. His breath was cool and tickled. When he stood up again, he looked at her expectantly. “What would you like?” 

There was something about the way he was looking at her, the way his voice was, the way he moved, that made her shudder. “I don't want you to look like anyone else,” she answered. “If we're going out, we're going as ourselves. Besides, they are looking for you here. If we go north, we can escape detection... maybe.”

Loki nodded. “I'd like to at least look better than this,” he snarled, playfully forgetting himself and grabbing her around the waist, pulling her into him, smashing his lips into hers and kissing her passionately.

Angel struggled for a moment, surprised at his initiative considering her treatment of him upon discovering who he was, but his grasp was too strong for him, so she stomped on his foot instead. The action was enough to startle Loki and he let her go. A sudden look of shame crossed his face. “Oh, I am so sorry,” he apologized. “I guess I forgot myself.”

Escaping into her bedroom, Angel huffed,” Whatever! Just get ready to go!”

He flicked his fingers and changed his outfit into a well-fitting suit, complete with waistcoat and tie. His hair, which had previously been wildly unkempt was slicked back, hanging in tendrils around the lobes of his ears. Smiling at himself in the mirror, he caught Angel's reaction to the transformation in the reflection.

Gasping in surprise, Angel exclaimed, “You look... good!”

“Thank you, my lady,” Loki responded, waggling his eyebrows at her. “You look beautiful.” She had changed from her casual clothes into a form-fitting green knee-length cocktail dress and black flats.

She playfully slapped his arm. “That makes up for earlier. Now, let's get going.” 

Angel went into the hallway first, scanning carefully to make sure Ward and Dean were gone. When she was satisfied they were safe, she motioned for Loki to follow her. He emerged from her apartment, letting the door swing shut behind him and hearing the lock click automatically. They slunk down the hallway and, each time there was a noise, turned towards each other and feigned a kiss, hoping the ruse would be enough should they be noticed. They managed to make it down the narrow stairs without another soul in sight and ducked out the front door and around the corner. Dean and Ward were nowhere to be found.

As they got into Angel's little Toyota Corolla, Loki commented, “That was easier than I thought it would be.”

She smiled at him, “Don't jinx it.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “Jinx it?” He sat down in the passenger seat, his long legs barely fitting into the compartment.

Starting the car, Angel answered, “It means you may end up making something happen you don't want to just by thinking about it.”

Mischievously, Loki grumbled, “What if I do want them to happen?”

“Excuse me?” She kept her eyes on the road as she maneuvered the car on the street, but her expression was one of disdain.

Loki shook his head. “Nothing.”

The ride was uneventful. They easily navigated the tail-end of rush-hour traffic and arrived unscathed at a small restaurant on the side of the Sound. “This place has the best seafood!” Angel gushed. 

Loki was the first out of the car and he came around, opened her door and held out his hand. “My lady,” he said quietly, bowing to her. 

She grasped his hand and helped herself out, but his simple, chivalrous act made her blush. “Thank you,” was all she could manage to say as he smiled at her. Pulling him towards the front door of the establishment, her confidence restored itself. When they reached the front desk and the hostess asked which name to put the table under, she replied, “Loki.”

“So much for staying undercover,” he said wryly as they sat on one of the benches to wait. “We might as well announce our presence with a banner and explosives.”

Mischievously, Angel winked at him. “And that's why I did it. They would never imagine we would be so bold.”

“Maybe not you, but the last time I visited this realm, I wasn't exactly subtle about it.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and noticed that, this time, she didn't try to squirm away from him. Pulling her closer, he whispered, “You seem to have a gift for that as well.”

Angel pulled away and lifted her hand, about to smack him, when the hostess called his name. “Saved by the bell,” she seethed as she got up and stomped away, following the hostess to their table.

Loki followed silently, pulling out her chair for her to sit and then sitting down himself on the opposite side of the table. “I've overstepped my boundaries again, haven't I?” he asked quietly, his hands folded on the table, his eyes cast down.

Exasperated, Angel huffed, “Yes.” She reached across the table and grasped his hands. “But part of it is my fault. I keep forgetting that you are not accustomed to being here. This all may be normal here, but not so much in Asgard, am I correct?”

Loki nodded. He wasn't about to let her know about his secret visits to Midgard when he was a boy. There were many nights he would sneak out of the palace and jump realms through one of many secret passages, the knowledge of which he was one of only a few. His greatest pleasure was in observing the Midgardians as they went about their daily lives, their menial tasks a source of amusement. They scurried about like little mice. As he grew older, he began to appreciate their struggle, how their life spans were so much smaller, but he always strove to understand why they spent so much of that life without regard to their own enjoyment. So many of them seemed miserable. “Our world is very different.”

Angel let go of his hands and the shadow of relief spread across her face. “Well, I'm glad that's been cleared up. Now what shall we eat?” She pointed to the menu in front of him as she picked up her own and raised an eyebrow. “What are you in the mood for?”


End file.
